THE 100th CHAPTER! Didn't think it'd take me over a year to reach it...I'll try to see if we can at least reach 300 before the end of this year.
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The explosion should have been deafening.
Instead, for a single, suspended moment, Wolfram heard nothing at all.
Heat rolled past him in a violent wave as the top floor of the tower ceased to exist—walls, ceiling, sky, all torn away in a spiralling storm of metal and fire. The world twisted, light bending unnaturally as his Quirk reflexively reacted, metal screaming as it warped around him like an instinctive cocoon.
And then—
Silence.
Not the calm kind.The empty kind.
Wolfram's consciousness drifted, slipping backward through time as effortlessly as metal obeyed his will.
He was small again.
Too small.
Red hair matted with blood and dust, lungs burning as he gasped beneath a collapsed structure that had once been an apartment complex—or a school—or maybe just another nameless building destroyed during the so-called Dark Age. Back when villains ruled openly. Back when heroes were rare, fragmented things that arrived late, if at all.
Metal pillars groaned above him, bending, shrieking under impossible weight. His Quirk was there—weak, unrefined, barely understood—but desperation sharpened it. Rusted beams trembled as he forced them to hold, veins standing out on his arms as he screamed wordlessly at the world to not let him die here.
People were dying around him.
He could hear it.Cries cut short.Bones snapping.Fireis eating oxygen.
Then—footsteps.
Calm ones.
Unhurried.
A shadow fell across the rubble, and a hand reached down through smoke and dust.
The man wore a crisp suit, immaculate despite the devastation. White hair. Pale smile. Eyes that seemed to look through him rather than at him.
"Would you like to come with me?" the man asked gently, as if offering tea rather than salvation.
The boy didn't answer.
Didn't need to.
That day wasn't a turning point.Wolfram understood that now.
If it hadn't been that man, it would've been someone else. If not that moment, then another. The world had already decided what kind of place it was—and what kind of person he would become if he survived it.
The hand merely ensured that he did.
"Sheesh…"
Wolfram blinked, vision snapping back into focus.
"…I was really that out of it?"
Wind howled around him.
Not indoor air circulation—real wind. Salt-laced. Cold. Endless.
He floated above the open sky.
Below him, the island's artificial ocean stretched wide and dark, waves churning where the tower's upper floors had once stood. The top of I-Island's central structure had been torn clean away, jagged metal ribs jutting upward like a broken crown.
Wolfram looked down at himself.
No wounds.No burns.Not even fatigue worth mentioning.
"Body's fine," he muttered. "Guess the booster stabilized better than expected…"
He glanced around, then let out a low whistle.
"…Huh. I only meant to hollow out the lower levels. Didn't realize I'd delete the roof."
A faint chuckle escaped him as he hovered there, metal debris lazily orbiting his body like obedient satellites.
"Well now," he said aloud, rolling his shoulders. "Should I sell this thing after all?"
His fingers brushed the device still integrated into his system, its power humming softly, intoxicating in its ease. No backlash. No resistance. Just raw, overwhelming authority.
"The client said I could do whatever I wanted with it…" he mused. "And honestly? This kind of power could fetch a ridiculous price."
He paused.
Then sighed.
"That's the euphoria talking. Power's not the goal—money is." He tilted his head, gaze drifting toward the distant sea. "The best option is to leave now. Fewer variables. No more annoying kids."
Something thudded behind him.
Muffled.Rhythmic.
Footsteps.
"…Actually," Wolfram added slowly, eyes narrowing, "one of those brats can fly. And there's not much metal out there past the shoreline."
He grimaced. "Fighting over the ocean sounds like a hassle."
Another sound—electricity crackling.
A familiar voice cut through the wind.
"Oh, I was almost certain he'd run away."
Wolfram turned.
Izuku Midoriya stood at the fractured edge of the remaining floor, green lightning crawling across his body in violent arcs, his stance low and unyielding. Every bruise, every tear in his clothes screamed exhaustion—yet his eyes burned brighter than ever.
Beside him, Denki Kaminari rolled his shoulders as yellow sparks danced eagerly across his skin, grin sharp and excited despite the danger. "C'mon, man," he said lightly. "You don't blow up a tower and then dip. That's just rude."
To their left, Tenya Iida stepped forward with mechanical precision, pant legs rolled up, engines exposed and whining softly as they primed. His posture was straight, disciplined—but there was steel beneath it now.
"Villains do not share the same moral restraints as heroes," Iida said calmly. "If we hesitate, he will escape."
Wolfram stared at them for a long moment.
Then laughed.
"Oh, c'mon~" he said, spreading his arms theatrically. "You all have so little faith in me. Of course, I want to have a hearty battle till the very end!"
The lie slipped out smoothly, polished and practiced.
Metal groaned beneath their feet.
The shattered remains of the tower shifted, twisting, flowing as if molten despite retaining their solid form. Walls curved upward, debris flattening and fusing as the environment reshaped itself at Wolfram's whim.
In seconds, the battlefield transformed.
A vast, bowl-shaped arena formed atop the ruins—high, sloping walls of reinforced alloy rising to encircle them, sealing off escape routes. Every surface gleamed faintly, humming with potential energy.
Wolfram descended slowly into the center, boots touching down without a sound.
The metal obeyed him completely.
"Now then," he said, adjusting his mask as his eyes glinted with anticipation. "Allow me to enact a final lesson."
His gaze locked onto the three students—heroes in training, battered yet unbroken.
"Soon-to-be-dead students," Wolfram corrected lightly, metal pillars rising behind him like a throne. "Let me show you what the world looks like when ideals don't matter… and power decides everything."
Green lightning flared brighter.
Engines roared.
Electricity screamed.
And as the arena sealed shut with a thunderous clang, the final battle truly began. Or so you thought.
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[Auther: I enjoy adding backstory to characters and making them more than just...2D villains who only exist in a movie and are deleted afterwards. That's why I'm going to consistently change things as I see fit. Enjoy.]